


Visitor

by MiladyPheonix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Reichenbach Feels, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 05:54:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16592084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiladyPheonix/pseuds/MiladyPheonix
Summary: Sherlock wants his life back, all of his life.





	Visitor

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This wonderful feeling](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/432002) by Anotherwellkeptsecret. 



> Another reunion AU where nothing hurts. Started a ficlet on Tumblr but the boys and Mrs Hudson ran away on me.

Sherlock knew he shouldn't, he was still dead after all but having observed John lope miserably up the street he had to visit just one more time. He was home but not alive yet and Mycroft was insisting he wait so he waited, at least until John was deep asleep before breaking into his one bedroom apartment and calmly dropping items on the floor until John emerged to deal with his intruder.

John had paled at the sight of Sherlock in his living room. "Not this again, not this dream again" John had babbled the same thing the last Sherlock broke in. "You're bloody dead and you're still driving me crazy, can't you just stay bloody dead!". Stung by John’s words Sherlock turned away, John had previously begged him to be alive. Then John grabbed him by the waist, holding his jacket tightly. "No! Don't! Don't be gone, don't be dead" Sherlock felt John’s hand try to pull him nearer but he held John back with careful pressure on his good shoulder. "Don't be dead" John tearfully raised a hand which Sherlock caught before it could reach his face then buried his nose in John's neck, inhaling deeply. He knew he would be resurrected soon, but he had missed John so much that it wasn't enough. He needed John Watson, needed to breath him in. John smelled of antiseptic and gun oil and good tilled earth. John smelled of the home that Sherlock had missed for the last two years.

[Anotherwellkeptsecret's amazing art, and the inspiration for this entire piece.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/81f7ae440b40980dd4ff9f910bbf1998/tumblr_nd5inz3RjQ1rxbyn1o1_1280.jpg)

John was sobbing, his hands pressed to his eyes after Sherlock drew away from him, so Sherlock hid in the shadows of the room as John recovered and slowly took himself back to bed... Just this last time Sherlock simply left, without picking up the items he had dropped. They had all been his possessions anyway.

John had littered his home with pieces of Sherlock, of their life together before the fall and Sherlock wanted it all back. He wanted that life back; his microscope, the bison skull, Mrs Hudson’s tea, and his books… though most of those were now on John’s floor as they had thumped so satisfyingly. 

He knew that Mycroft had refused to pack up his life after he had left, simply telling him to be quick about the mission so Mrs Hudson would be receiving rent but after seeing John, Sherlock was worried about how she was coping with all of a dead man’s possessions above her head. He was about to break into 221 Baker street to check on her when his phone buzzed. 

“Seeing as you cannot control yourself Sherlock I have been forced to prioritise your resurrection” Mycroft sounded like he was doing Sherlock an immense favour instead of simply what he had promised Sherlock years ago. “You will be alive again tomorrow morning, I recommend approaching Mrs Hudson with extreme care. There is a very serviceable florist two roads down that opens for business early” 

“Flowers Mycroft…” “Just do it Sherlock” Sherlock sneered as he returned to the safe house. His brother did not know Martha Hudson she probably knew he was alive as soon as Mycroft refused to clear 221B, but a small offering wouldn’t go amiss. He would sleep on it after all tomorrow was the first day of his life. 

He woke early when Anthea knocked on his door with a “birthday gift from your brother" which held his new ID, bank cards, driver’s licence, and the keys to 221B. He dressed with care and selected a bouquet of purple hyacinth, geraniums, and forget-me-nots. [She would know what he meant](http://thelanguageofflowers.com) and went home to drop things on his own floor until he got a response. 

She screamed, not the response he had hoped for but then quickly dropped the pan she was brandishing and hastened into his arms. “When your reptile of a sibling insisted on paying the rent I knew something was up” She had recovered quickly but embraced him for a while before gasping “I’ve called John! When I heard the noise upstairs I called John. He'll be on his way over, sounded quite eager to give my intruder a thumping actually”. Sherlock smiled, but her face turned serious. “You’d better watch yourself, you did a lot of damage to that man Sherlock”.

The tea was steeping and Mrs Hudson was downstairs putting her flowers in water when the street door slammed open and John’s swift cadence carried him up the steps into 221B. “Mrs Hudson, you ok?” He called as he walked into the lounge turning to see Sherlock standing in the kitchen… and promptly fainted dead away.

He was on his back with something soft was under his head that it smelled like Sherlock. A tear slipped down his cheek as he turned his spinning head into soft fabric. He could have sworn he’d seen Sherlock and he swore again but out loud this time as he understood what he was hearing. “… don’t know why you’re smiling young man, you put poor John though hell. Should we call a doctor?” “He is still a doctor I assume, and listen to him. He’s fine, any biscuits?” John knew Sherlock was rambling and swore again. 

“Dammit! It was always you wasn’t it, the bloody books on the floor" John groaned as he stood up. “It was only twice John” “Why were you always dropping books?!” John thrust his jaw out slightly, always pugnacious John, Sherlock smiled. “Why do you do have so many of my books John?”. 

John felt his face redden but fortunately Mrs Hudson had gone back downstairs for biscuits. He had taken a few things from 221B. Nothing valuable like the microscope or the Strad but small things like a few of Sherlock’s books, the union Jack pillow, maybe a dressing gown or two of Sherlock’s. “I missed you, wanted to hold on to a few things. Sentiment” John mumbled. “I’ll need it back now though, everything you took from 221B" Sherlock didn’t see that John’s face crumpled at his words until he returned with a tea tray. 

“John! John no” Sherlock nearly dropped his delicate burden but set it carefully on the table and pulled John into his arms. “You took yourself from 221B as well John and I do need everything back. You too, John, I need you back too. Please come back” Sherlock whispered urgently as he held John close.

Neither heard Mrs Hudson quietly drop a plate of biscuits in the kitchen before leaving, the boys would sort themselves out.


End file.
